


(Bright Blue) City Lights

by kaleidomusings



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enjolras tries to deal with his problems by avoiding them, Insomnia, M/M, implications of prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:31:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaleidomusings/pseuds/kaleidomusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most nights, Enjolras finds it hard to fall sleep. </p><p>When that happens, he likes to go on long walks around the city until he's tired enough to pass out for a couple of hours. But tonight, he deviates from his usual route and walks along the river instead, which is how he catches sight of the man standing at the water's edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Bright Blue) City Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dream_tempo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_tempo/gifts).



> Another trope on the bingo card is finished at last! This fic wouldn't have been possible without Dream_tempo encouraging me, so thank you!

Most nights, Enjolras finds it hard to fall sleep.  

When that happens, he likes to go on long walks around the city until he's tired enough to pass out for a couple of hours. But tonight, he deviates from his usual route and walks along the river instead, which is how he catches sight of the man standing at the water's edge.  

Enjolras stops and stares, studying the man's worn clothes and the cigarette held between his fingers. If this was during the day, he probably would have overlooked such a person. But here -in the soft blue glow of the street lights and with shadows playing across his face- Enjolras is fascinated despite himself, something that captivates him about the painfully melancholy picture the man makes. 

"Care to join me or are you just going to stand there and watch?" 

Enjolras jumps, startled, as the man turns with an amused smile on his face. He takes a long drag from his cigarette before holding it out to him like an offering.

Enjolras frowns at it and says, "I don't smoke." 

The man laughs. "I figured that would be the case."   

Enjolras' frown deepens, because he's not quite sure how to respond to that. "Do you need me to call you a taxi?" he asks instead. "Or do you live close by? I can walk you home." 

"I don't feel like it," the man replies. Then he grins, as if he finds it all incredibly funny.  

Either he's a mad man or very drunk, Enjolras decides. He should really just walk away now, but there's something that keeps him standing there. Something that -against his better judgement- makes him unable to bring himself to leave. "You can stay with me for the night," he says after a moment. 

The man considers this for a moment and then shrugs. "All right." He drops his cigarette and grinds it beneath his boot. Enjolras stares at him pointedly until he sighs and picks it up, tossing it into the garage can. "I'm warning you, though. I don't come cheap." 

Enjolras isn't entirely sure what the man means by that or whether he should take it as a joke, but he nods his agreement all the same. He doesn't mind helping someone in need if it's within his power to do so. 

\-- 

The man keeps touching him the whole way back to his apartment.  

It starts with fingers brushing against his own as they walk, which isn't a big deal and is subtle enough for him to ignore. But then there's a hand squeezing his shoulder, followed by an arm wrapped around his waist, and -while Enjolras doesn't necessarily dislike it- it feels strange. Finally fed up with it, he asks the man to stop and much to his relief, he does.  

Still, as unsettling as the man's presence is, Enjolras feels rather comforted by it. His life is usually so hectic and busy, and there's always something (or someone) needing his attention. He never has time to just… be. But the man seems content to walk alongside him, in no rush to get to any particular destination, which is a very surprisingly nice feeling.  

"What are you doing out this late at night, if you don't mind me asking?" the man asks after some time. "Do you have problems sleeping?" 

Enjolras turns to look at him with glare, thinking he is being mocked, but realizes that the man is honestly curious. Despite himself, Enjolras thinks about telling him that he's an insomniac. That he takes walks outside while the rest of the world is asleep because he doesn't know how else to deal with it. That he used to take medication Joly prescribed for him, except it only made his nightmares worse and made him so nauseous that it left him incapacitated throughout the day, so he stopped. Instead, he responds with, "Yes, I do," because that's safer and much easier. "And you?"  

The man smiles. "It's more or less the same reason," he says. 

It's a vague sort of response he dislikes, but Enjolras doesn't call him out on it. Instead, he leads the man home to his tiny apartment, the one with the rusty old lock he has to wiggle the key around in until it finally opens. "Sorry it's not much," he says as he shuts the door behind them. "Do you want a cup of tea or--" 

Before he can finish, the man pins him against the nearest wall and kisses him. At first, Enjolras is too startled to do anything but let himself be kissed, but when he brings his hands up to push him away, the man presses his leg between his thighs, and it's all he can do to clutch at his shoulders when his knees threaten to buckle underneath him.  

The man kisses him like he means to take him apart with his lips and tongue, and Enjolras gasps helplessly against the onslaught. His trembling legs can barely keep him upright, but the man catches his arms and holds him steady.  

"No!" Enjolras twists and stumbles away, struggling to catch his breath. "What the hell are you doing?" 

It makes him angry that the man has the nerve to look surprised. "Do you have something against kissing?" 

Enjolras clenches his fists. "I never asked you to. And I have half a mind to throw you out right now." 

"You act as if you had no idea what you were offering when you invited me over," the man says with a laugh. When Enjolras continues to glare at him, he blanches. "Shit. Did you really not know?" 

"I thought you needed a place to stay for the night." His lips are still tingling from the kiss, which makes him angrier. Enjolras storms into his bedroom, grabs an extra blanket and pillow off his bed and violently chucks it onto the couch. "Use that and don't even think of coming into my bedroom." 

The man looks a little stricken now, but Enjolras is already turning away. "Hey, listen--" 

"I want you gone in the morning," Enjolras snaps before he can say anything else, slamming the door behind him.  

\-- 

"Let me get this straight." Courfeyrac's shoulders tremble as he fights the urge to laugh. "You accidentally propositioned a total stranger--" 

"Courfeyrac," Enjolras says with a frown, but stops when he raises a hand.  

"Then you took him back to your apartment." Courfeyrac's eyes are dancing with mirth now. "Then you got upset at him for kissing you, but still let him crash on your couch?" 

Enjolras scowls. "I couldn't just toss him out in the street, now could I?" 

Courfeyrac howls with laughter and buries his face against Combeferre's shoulder, who is looking at Enjolras with concern. "You didn't even get his name. What if he tried to hurt you?" 

"My bedroom door locks from the inside," Enjolras points out matter-of-factly, ignoring the fact that he's never used it since moved in and he's not even sure the old thing could have held if the man tried to break down his door.

Coufeyrac sits up to wipe away his tears, still snickering, as Combeferre smacks his knee like a reprimand before turning his attention back to Enjolras. "He could have robbed you." 

Enjolras raises an eyebrow at that because he sincerely doubts that even the desperate would try to steal from him. There's nothing he has that anyone might want. Besides, the man hadn't tried anything after the kiss. By the time Enjolras woke up, he was already gone, the blanket folded neatly on the couch. "It's not like I'll be seeing him again." 

"If you say so," Combeferre says slowly. He nudges Courfeyrac with his elbow. "Stop that. The neighbors are going to complain about you being too loud again." 

\-- 

When the doorbell rings later that night, Enjolras doesn't think about who might be on the other side. He assumes it's going to be Courfeyrac or Combeferre and just opens it, so he really has no one to blame except himself when he comes face to face with the man from the night before. He feels his eyes widen, heart beating fast because a complete stranger he's kissed is standing right there on his doorstep.

The man smiles at him sheepishly and holds up two bags of takeaway like a peace offering. "Hungry?"

As if on cue, Enjolras' stomach growls unhappily. Flustered and embarrassed, he places a hand over his traitorous midsection as the man grins and slips past him. He leaves his shoes at the door and heads to the kitchen, where he leaves the food on Enjolras' little table and digs through his cabinets and drawers for plates and silverware.

"You act like this is your apartment instead of mine," Enjolras says, not sure whether to be indignant or amused.  

The man considers this before handing him the dishes and utensils. "Then you can set the table for us." 

Enjolras is tempted to protest, but is too hungry after a long day to put up a fight. He just does as he's told and doesn't realize he should be wary of this man's intentions until he's already halfway through his meal.

"Why did you come back?" he asks.  

There's a soft clink as the man lays down his fork, his eyes meeting Enjolras', making him a little breathless. "I took advantage of your kindness last night," he says quietly. "And I wanted to make it up to you." 

Enjolras blinks. "With dinner?" 

The man smiles at him. "Not quite." 

Enjolras shifts food around on his plate, looking away in an attempt to hide how red his face is turning. "I'll ask you to leave if you try kissing me again," he warns.  

"I won't." The words has him glancing up in surprise and the man looks at him fondly. "I thought we could watch a movie or something instead." 

 _Maybe he's homeless after all_ , Enjolras thinks to himself, resigned to spend the rest of his evening doing something so unproductive. But he's an insomniac for a reason and figures he can get his work done after the man falls asleep. Speaking of which-- "You still haven't told me your name." 

"Neither have you," the man points out and shakes his head in amusement when Enjolras frowns at him. "You're so easy to tease. Call me Grantaire, and you are?" 

Enjolras can't help wondering if that's even his real name. But, then again, does it really matter if it is or not? "My name is Enjolras." 

\-- 

Grantaire digs out some movie Enjolras has never seen out of his bag, but he isn't able to find out what it's about, because one minute he's acutely aware of how close Grantaire settles beside him on the couch and next thing he knows, he's waking up to birds singing and slivers of sunlight peeking through the curtains. The pillow under his cheeks shifts until Enjolras realizes it's not a pillow at all, but Grantaire's shoulder. 

"Did you drug me?" he asks. His words slur a bit, but there's no telltale grogginess of medication. He just feels like he's slept for a very long time. 

"Of course I didn't," Grantaire says, yawning and stretching his arms above his head. Enjolras blinks blearily up at him, wondering if he's still dreaming. No one should look that attractive in the morning, least of all Grantaire. With his wild curls and deep blue eyes and smiling like Enjolras is something wonderful. "Sleep well?" 

Enjolras glances down and realizes that at some point during the night, Grantaire covered them both with a blanket. His fingers play with the edge of it, feeling suddenly awkward and shy. "I haven't felt this rested in a long time," he admits.  

"Good." Grantaire says, sounding way too pleased about it. "I hoped it would." 

"Do you--" Enjolras pauses and runs his fingers through his hair. "Did you know that I can't sleep at night?" 

A light touch at the back of his neck startles him, Grantaire's hand very warm against his skin. "I didn't have to. Only someone with an unusual sleeping schedule would wander around at night. Insomnia seemed the most plausible." 

Having someone finally put a label on it is both distressing and liberating for him. "What about you?" he asks. 

Grantaire shrugs. "I guess I am a little bit. But if I'm not sleeping anyway, I figure I might as well put that time to good use."  

The flippant way Grantaire talks about his nightly dalliances makes Enjolras uneasy. He glances at the time and -while it's still too early for him to be anywhere- starts to rise from the couch. "I need to get ready," he says.  

"Shall I get the coffee on?"  

"I don't have coffee," Enjolras says. He flushes when Grantaire whips around to stare at him, aghast. "I would make you breakfast, but I can't remember the last time I went out for groceries." 

Grantaire's eyes narrow at him. "When did you last have an actual meal?" 

"Last night." 

"And before that?" 

Enjolras bites his lip. "I don't know." His friends are almost always pushing food onto him when they're around, but he eats very little when he's alone, if he eats at all. Either he can't be bothered to make anything or he just doesn't have the appetite.  

Grantaire makes a horrified sound, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. Enjolras frowns at him, but he grabs his arm and starts dragging him to the door. "Come with me," Grantaire orders, barely giving him enough time to get his coat or put on his shoes, "I'm going to feed you right if it's the last thing I do." 

\-- 

"So," Cosette -the pretty barista who works at Enjolras' favorite coffee shop and Marius' girlfriend- says sweetly as she sits down beside him.  

Enjolras looks up from laptop and eyes her warily, since Cosette can be even worse than Courfeyrac when she wants to be. Well meaning, but also very nosy. "So what?" 

"I heard about your new friend. And it seems to be true, considering how refreshed you've been looking lately."

Mortified, he starts to blush. Grantaire has been coming by to his apartment almost every night since the first time, cooking dinner for him and sleeping with him in his bed. But that's all that they do, just sleeping together. And it's totally not a big deal that he wakes up in the morning to find their bodies curled together and limbs tangled, filling Enjolras with warmth and an aching wistfulness he tries not to think about too much. Neither is the smile that breaks out unwarranted across his face when he gets random text messages from Grantaire throughout the day. 

His phone alerts him to such a message, but before he can check, Cosette is already grabbing it from him. Whatever she reads makes her eyebrows rise and he quickly snatches his phone away from her. 

 _We're running low on milk_ , the message says. _Want me to pick up some on the way home?_

"It's not what you think," he says and winces as soon as the words leave his mouth, because that probably confirms whatever suspicions she might have, however untrue they are. "He's been helping me deal with my insomnia."

"Who buys your groceries." If this is anyone else, it might sound like an accusation. But with Cosette, it's merely an observation. "And I've never heard you acknowledge your condition out loud before. Even after Joly diagnosed it."

Enjolras frowns at her, not liking what she seems to be instigating. "He's not interested in me like that." If he was, surely Grantaire would have mentioned it by now, wouldn't he?

Cosette smiles with a pitying look in her eyes and pats his hand. "I think you should bring him around to meet the others," she says.

\--

It haunts him for the rest of the day and the entire walk back to his apartment. Although, in retrospect, perhaps it shouldn't.

He's always wondered what keeps Grantaire coming back even when he didn't have to, when he clearly has his own life that doesn't involve making sure Enjolras eats and sleeps. 

Grantaire is young and able to provide for himself by giving music lessons to the children of privileged socialites, even without including the money he makes at night. Enjolras has only stopped by his place once, but it was enough to learn that Grantaire lives in a nice studio with a door lock that works and hot water that lasts longer than ten minutes. Wouldn't he rather be there than at Enjolras' poor excuse of an apartment?

At the same time, the thought of Grantaire being anywhere else doesn't sit well with him either. So when Enjolras steps into his apartment after wrestling with the stupid door and kicks off his shoes, he sees Grantaire coming out of the kitchen and heads straight toward him. 

Grantaire makes a soft noise of surprise when Enjolras wraps his arms around him and presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth. A moment later, warm hands grip his hips and -feeling braver- he deepens the kiss. 

When they finally part to catch their breath, Grantaire stares at him in bemusement. "Um. Not that I'm complaining, but what was that?"

"I want to be with you," Enjolras tells him, feeling the heavy weight he's been carrying around easing with each word. "But if you want us to stop, you need to tell me right now."

"Have you seen yourself?" Grantaire demands, trailing kisses over his face and down his throat. "Why would I ever want to stop?"

"I don't have much money," Enjolras starts, but cuts off with a gasp when Grantaire nips him a little viciously. 

It hurts, but Grantaire's tongue immediately soothes over the bite. "It's been months since I've had sex with anyone, even for a job," he murmurs against his skin, making Enjolras shiver. "You're all I think about and it's driving me crazy."

There's something about being wanted that makes Enjolras feel powerful, like he could change the world with Grantaire by his side. "I don't want you to be with anyone else," Enjolras says, arching into the hand slipping under his shirt and along his lower back. 

Grantaire kisses him. "I won't. For money or otherwise."

"Will you still cook for me?" Enjolras asks, because a man has his priorities. 

Grantaire takes a moment to consider it. "Absolutely, so long as you still do the dishes afterward. But I'm not going to quit smoking and I have a bad habit of leaving sheet music lying around. Also I might serenade you in bed."

Enjolras cups the front of his trousers and squeezes until he moans. "I'm a workaholic with insomnia and a serial cuddlier. We'll make it work." He pauses. "And I would prefer it if you smoke outside."

"Done."

Later, when they're a sweaty mess in Enjolras' bed, he drowsily remembers the conversation he had with Cosette. "You don't have to, but I'd really like you to meet my friends." They can be loud and embarrassing at times, but they're his family. 

Grantaire nods against his shoulder and burrows close. "I have people I want you to meet too, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

And Enjolras -for the first time in a long while- falls asleep and dreams.


End file.
